Better Together
by NickL4Dolas
Summary: Gotta stay together. No use hating each other, right?
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** The four survivors need to split up, Rochelle and Coach one way, Nick and Ellis the other.

** Pairing:** Nellis bromance cause it's my BroTP! But it can be interpreted as fluff =^w^=. It also contains slight hints of Coach and Rochelle; it's up to you to decide whether it's friendship or pairing.

**Rated:** T for language

**Disclaimer:** Valve owns all!

**Extra Info:** I usually ship NickRo, but I'm now doing Nellis bromance. I'm also used to writing OC Infected fanfics, so sorry if they're OOC! ^_^ Enjoy, and R&R!

**Music:** Your Touch (Blake Lewis), Better Together (Ross Lynch)

_[A/N ~ Essy, thanks for Austin and Ally cause it helped me with this fanfic title!]_

Chapter 1: Split

The two tunnels were pitch dark. Rochelle glanced down one, squinting. She couldn't see much, even with her gun light shining down into the gloom. She turned round.

"Coach and I'll go one way," she told the others, before turning to Nick. "Nick, I'm trusting you to not kill Ellis." Nick smiled sardonically; he then glared at Ellis, who stared back, bemused.

"Fine," the conman muttered. He prodded Ellis's chest. "Let's go, Overalls." The two disappeared into the darkness of the left tunnel. Rochelle watched them go.

"Is it just me, or am I worried about Ellis already?" Coach murmured.

"Overalls. Hey, Overalls!" Ellis turned and looked at Nick, who was beckoning.

"What?" he said in his lilting Georgian accent.

"Get a health pack," the conman replied, pointing at the supplies. Ellis hadn't seen it, and thanked Nick.

"I just showed you packs, kid, don't get so over the top," Nick muttered.

They walked down the edge of the road, and Nick saw Common Infected milling about. He announced the zombies, and went in with his katana. Blood spattered his white suit and blue shirt, but he went on hacking at them. Ellis wielded his machete and gave a delighted whoop as he sang, "Die, die, my darlings, die, die, die!"

Surrounded by bodies that weren't going to get up again, Nick brushed his hair back. He didn't praise Ellis as he strode to get more ammo.

"Stay here," he growled when the Georgia kid tried to follow. "I don't want you acting like a damn puppy whenever I move."

Bemused by this, Ellis stood idly in the space. He watched Nick's back as the conman turned the corner and disappeared. He would be back soon.

Soon after, Ellis hesitated. Should he go? No, that would just make Nick angry. So he waited patiently. He jumped when a warning cut through the silence.

"HUN-" It was broken off. Ellis sprinted after the voice, which was definitely Nick's. He gave a cry as he almost fell over the Hunter tearing at his fellow survivor, who looked wild-eyed at Ellis. Beneath the moss green, Ellis saw resentment, regret and relief.

"Die!" he yelled, shooting bullets into the Hunter with his AK-47. The Hunter shoulder-rolled as it was shoved off by Nick, and jumped on Ellis, tearing at his beige Bull-Shifters shirt. Nick shot at it, and it tried to pounce away. Another round of bullets silenced it.

Nick slowly stood, wincing as the gashes opened up. Ellis rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled over to pick up his cap. He pushed it back over his curly brown hair.

Nick helped Ellis up, before healing him. Ellis froze, slightly surprised, but thankful for the bandages. Nick stood back and bit his lip, hesitating.

"I-" He paused, then continued. "I'm sorry for stopping you. Thanks for helping me."

Ellis accepted the whole-hearted apology (usually Nick muttered a half-hearted thanks) and carried on walking, taking pleasure in killing more Commons.

Nick was limping, his breath rasping, but refused Ellis' frequent offers to heal him.

"You need to save the pack," he would always reply. They wandered into a house with a broken door; the first seat they reached Nick sank into gratefully. He momentarily rested his head against his palms, before resting his head agains the wall behind.

Ellis stood uncertainly nearby. He went to search for some ammo, but stopped as Nick grabbed his shirt hem. Nick looked at him.

"Not alone. Not after what I did," he said sharply, standing shakily and ploughing ahead into the other rooms resiliently, ignoring Ellis' confused expression.

Rochelle nervously stopped. She could hear crying, and turned to Coach. He had heard it too. It was just ahead.

Turning a bend in the tunnel they saw the Witch. She was directly where they needed to walk, no space to go around, nor another way around her.

Coach cursed softly, and they both turned off their flashlights. Now what? They couldn't get around, they were stood in a dark tunnel and a goddamn Witch was there. Fantastic.

"Any other way around?" she asked Coach hopefully when he returned from scouting behind the bend. He shook his head, squinting at the sobbing Witch. He frowned, a crease marring his forehead.

"If we could ..." He lifted a molotov, the alcohol bottle flaming. The Witch carried on crying. Rochelle crept closer, her hoop earrings gently swaying. Her pink T-shirt looked dark grey in the darkness.

She motioned for Coach to give her the molotov, and was confused when he shook his head.

"Why not?" she hissed, lowering her voice.

"Can't let you do that, Ro," Coach said softly. "I don't want that bitch tearing you in half, do I?"

And he threw the molotov.

"Smoker," Nick growled. He seemed to have recovered after Ellis had healed him ("Fine, get it over with!"), and crept ahead. He glanced about for the tall Special Infected.

Ellis gave a strangled cry as it grabbed him. Nick raced over as quick as he could, and shoved it. The tongue snapped successfully. Ellis felt Nick push something into his hands; he glanced at the adrenaline shot in slight puzzlement. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again at Nick's glare. The conman loosened his blue collar, unconsciously rubbing the fading hickey on his neck. Ellis itched his nose awkwardly. Nick looked at him.

"You oka-" He was cut off by the loud sounds of an approaching horde, and the gurgles of a-

"FAT GUY, FAT GUY!" Ellis shouted, shoving the Boomer and backing away.

"Popped it- agh!" Nick yelled as the Boomer burst, covering him head to toe in bile. He tried to wipe off the green gunk, glancing up to see if the horde was there yet. Ellis saw him.

"Uh oh," he murmured.

"Shit!" Nick swore when the bile wouldn't scrub off.

And all the windows and doors smashed as the Commons poured in.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Light it up

Rochelle yelled Coach's name as the Witch screamed, jumping up and racing with terrifying speed at the man. He resolutely fired with his shotgun.

The Witch gave a last, echoing screech and crumpled. Coach gave a grim smile. Crowned her.

"Hey, Ro ... Rochelle?"

She had sunk onto the floor, paler than usual, her hands over her face. She gave a shaky laugh that was slightly muffled by her hands. She looked up at Coach, trembling. Her eyes were wide, swimming with relieved tears.

"Don't ever do that again," she said shakily.

Nick fought to reach Ellis. They couldn't get separated; what if the kid got pounced or grabbed, or was incapacitated in a puddle of burning goo shit?

What if he died?

No, Ellis was much stronger than that, he wasn't weak or ready to fail. So why was Nick so desperate to see him?

He caught a flash of beige, then Ellis' cap.

"ELLIS?" he shouted, making for the blue cap.

"NICK!" The voice came from behind a ton of Commons. Nick gave something similar to a battle cry and ran at the Infected, limbs and blood flying as he hacked his way through to Ellis, who in turn was attempting to break the wall of Commons.

"Take that, you mealy-mouthed bastards!" the conman shouted as he finally got through to Ellis. The kid's eyes widened and he killed the last one, before gratefully accepting the pills Nick gave him. They made their way over to a ladder, onto a rooftop.

And Nick disappeared.

Coach helped Rochelle up, and made sure she was stable before they continued.

Their tunnel opened out into a dim warehouse that was crawling with-

Witches. A large billboard on the window denoted that they were in fact in a sugar cane factory, but it would be closed until further notice due to the sickness. The same as the motel they had passed, a long time ago.

Rochelle felt deafened by the wails and sobs of the many Witches, some even wandering about listlessly, long claws clamped over their tear-streaked, grimy faces. Coach swore.

"We're gonna need more molotovs," he muttered.

"Nick?" Ellis cried, spinning wildly. "NICK!"

The conman was gone. What had got him? A Charger, a Jockey, a Smoker? He couldn't tell; there were no signs or sounds. He ran over and checked down the ladder. No sign. Ellis felt himself beginning to panic.

"Down here, Ellis!" Nick called. He had jumped down onto a platform, and helped Ellis onto it. A smile played on his lips, but faded at Ellis' terrified expression. "You okay, kid?"

Ellis collapsed beside the conman, overwhelmed that he was alright. Nick reached to touch the kid's shoulder, then thought better of it. He went in a door, leaving Ellis there to cool off.

A few minutes later, there came a loud crash. Nick was reminded of a Charger, and he rushed back. He found the door jammed, dust rising.

"Ellis? Kid, you there?" Nick shouted.

"Yeah, ah jus' th-"

An ear-splitting, bellowing roar, rather like a dinosaur, cut Ellis off. Nick's blood ran cold. Ellis was alone. Out there. With a Charger.

A impact shook the wall, but the crash wasn't loud enough to mask Ellis' yells. The Charger had him. Nick was hammering on the door, and heard the telltale sound of a Spitter hawking and releasing a gob of acidic goo. A close splat revealed that it was spitting at Ellis. Sizzling and fresh cries of pain confirmed this. More thuds, melodically rhythmic and painful to Nick to hear.

His heart was pounding loud enough to hurt his ears; it felt as if it would rip from his throat. He gave an almost defeated noise, partway between a snarl and a cry, as he managed to wrench the door an inch open.

Rubble had cascaded, possibly when the Charger had first gone for Ellis. He could see the kid now, blue eyes wide with fear and defeat. His eyelids flickered shut. No. He wouldn't let the kid die, they'd travelled together for ages, they were companions!

With a groan, Nick wrenched the door further open: a few inches. Half a foot. A foot- now he could fit!

Sideways, Nick pushed through the door and ran at Ellis. He fired so many shots at the Charger he lost count, and only breathed again when it had fallen.

Ellis' eyes were closed now. Every now and then he gave a faint breath accompanied by a death rattle. Then his chest stopped moving.

"No! You- stop it!" Rochelle shouted at Coach. She bashed her fists on the thick, unyielding glass.

The door to the small room was barricaded shut from the outside, a chair blocking the handle. The glass wouldn't break anytime soon.

"Ro, I don't want you getting hurt," Coach explained simply. He turned and raised his shotgun, aiming for the nearest Witch. Rochelle turned away, breathing heavily. No. Coach would be fine. He would crown them. Wouldn't he?

A shot and a scream. He had managed to kill this Witch. One down, and however many to go ...

"No, no, no, no! Ellis, don't you die on me!" Nick cried, and tried for a pulse. Negative. In a haze, he shot the Spitter dead and grabbed some defibrillators. He automatically said, "Grabbing some chest paddles," aloud. Nobody was there to hear him.

"Don't die on me, kid," he rasped breathlessly. He kneeled beside the still-warm body and rubbed the paddles together. Now or never ... One jolt. Then another. Then-

Ellis twitched, drawing in a pained breath. His eyelids flickered but didn't open. But he had a pulse, he was breathing.

Nick was so relieved as he hefted up the unconscious kid, and slowly limped towards the red safe house door.

When Ellis awoke he was lying on the floor under a scratchy blanket. The exit door of the safe room was barred thoroughly. Even a Tank couldn't get through.

About a foot away, Nick lay sleeping. Ellis watched the conman breathing softly, and focused on the faint lipstick smudge on his blue collar. It was all but gone now. His white jacket was folded neatly on a table.

Ellis rolled onto his back and stared up to the ceiling. He didn't have feelings for Nick or anything, he just liked being close friends. Maybe it was the commanding Boston wise guy accent Nick had. Or maybe the sharp smile he occasionally gave. It could also be the way Nick seemed closer to him, but Ellis couldn't be sure. He smiled into the darkness.

"Hell, ah don't know, Nick," he murmured, his drawl still noticeable as he whispered. Nick shifted and Ellis caught the glint of eyes opening.

"You saying something, kiddo?" the conman yawned, moving to gaze drowsily at Ellis. He propped himself up on his elbows and rubbed his eyes, before looking at Ellis again.

"Nah, don't ya worry," Ellis grinned. Nick looked unconvinced, but didn't continue.

He sat up and pulled his white suit jacket over his blue dress shirt, and strapped the holster back round his leg. He hitched the medic pack onto his back and lifted his axe, assault rifle strapped firmly next to the pack.

"I'll keep watch," he muttered. "I just heard another goddamn Boomer."

Ellis thankfully went back to sleep, the conman watching over him.

"COACH!" Rochelle screamed. A Witch was shrieking, tearing at the older man's flesh. He was trying to stifle cries of agony as the claws rent his skin into ribbons.

Rochelle couldn't take it anymore. She bulldozed her shoulder into the door, barging so hard she burst through. She snatched up her gun and opened fire at the offending Witch, before helping Coach up and taking him back to the room.

He was breathing heavily, blood dripping from the lacerations in his dark skin.

"Sorry ... Ro ... stupid of me ... to think I could ... take on Witches ..." he wheezed as she healed him swiftly.

"Don't worry," she soothed. "You're gonna be okay."

When Ellis awoke a second time, daylight was streaming through the safe door bars. He stretched and kicked off the blanket, gathering his gear. He ran a hand through his curly brown hair, before placing his familiar cap on.

"You're awake," Nick commented. A small packet landed in Ellis' lap; it was a cereal bar, unopened. "I got it from the store next to us," Nick added, taking a bite of his breakfast, flashing a rare smile.

After they'd eaten, Nick walked past Ellis to the door. "Let's go," he said grimly, and Ellis followed.

Not many Commons were about, which made Ellis happy and Nick wary.

"Overalls!" Nick barked. Ellis spun.

"Yeah, Nick? What?" he replied.

"I just-" Nick began, before a solid impact hit his sternum. He was winded as he hit a wall and the Charger pummelled his back into it. "ELLIS, DO SOMETHING!" he shouted at the frozen kid. "SHOOT IT! SHOOT IT!"

Ellis did so, but just as the Charger died a Jockey, giggling hysterically, pounced upon his head. Ellis gave a cry as it dragged him towards-

A Witch.

"Oh, no you don't!" Nick roared, sprinting after Ellis. He caught a glimpse of the kid's scared face and made a split-second decision.

He shot the Jockey once, releasing Ellis, then ran past the shaken kid.

"Nick!" Ellis called. Nick held up an adrenaline shot and jabbed the needle into his bloodstream, the sharp pain making sounds go metallic and strangely echoey, allowing him to run faster.

Faster than a Witch.

Nick startled the Witch.

Ellis watched, horror building, as the hardy conman barrelled towards the crying girl.

"No!" he cried as he saw Nick take adrenaline, then shoot the Witch and sprint away. She gave a scream -whether it was of pain or anger, Ellis couldn't tell - and stood up, rushing at the conman. Nick was glancing back, he didn't see the wall-

BAM. He collided head on with it, but before the Witch could reach him, Ellis shot at her. His bullets caught a fire canister, setting the Witch alight.

"Come at me, cryin' girl!" he jeered, and the riled Witch ran at her new target.

"No, Ellis!" Nick bellowed, still trembling from the effects of the adrenaline. He dragged himself up as the Witch reached the kid, but couldn't avoid the fire.

Firing off several shots, Ellis backed way as he reloaded his shotgun hastily. The Witch opened a shallow gash across his left arm, and cold sweat was glistening on the kid's forehead as he got closer to a wall. He was trapped.

Rochelle and Coach had managed to sneak round the Witches, the moans and crying still ringing in their ears even after they had exited the factory.

Rochelle saw a flash of white through the hedge opposite, but her momentary flare of hope was doused as a Common in a white shirt stumbled aimlessly round the corner.

"It's okay, Ro, we'll find them again," Coach reassured, patting the sad woman's shoulder. "I'm sure, cause Nick and Ellis aren't the type of guys to give up easily."

"I'm not worried about Nick. I'm worried about Ellis; I mean, he acts like a kid! How do we know he didn't run off and get pounced, or pissed Nick off so much they split up or-"

"Ro. Listen to me. They'll be fine."

"ELLIS!" Nick shouted, and he resolutely stood and ran at the Witch, axe in hand. Swapping for his assault rifle, the conman swiftly dispatched a round of bullets into the angry Witch, who uttered a final shriek and fell still.

Ellis was bleeding, but most of the gashes didn't seem too deep ... Nick hoped. He dragged the kid into a corner, and found they had a well-earned respite from the Infected. Nick was breathing heavily, pressing a hand against his midriff. Ominous bruises meant his ribs were most likely to be broken or cracked at the least.

"Hey, kid," he said breathlessly. Ellis looked at him, slightly bewildered. "I just wanted to say ... that you'd be better off with Ro."

"What? How?" Ellis asked. "Y'all were kind to me, but ah - ah don't mean any disrespect to her, Nick, but I'd rather be with you than Ro. I mean, she's nice an' all, but ... ah don't know, it's just somethin' about ya, Nick, that ah like. Not in a bad way!" he said hastily at Nick's shocked expression. "Ah know ya are more of a ladies' man-" he motioned at the hickey on Nick's neck, giving an embarrassed laugh, "-but ah'd rather be with ya, Nick, than Ro. Or Coach."

"That ... was a speech," Nick said slowly after a long, awkward silence. He had pulled his blue shirt collar further up, covering the mark on his neck. "I- um. Look, Ellis, it's fine. I won't take it in a bad way, 'kay? Sorted."

The conman swivelled on his heels and winced as his ribs jarred. "We need to cross over to the main street, where we can take care of any zombies."

"Righ'," Ellis confirmed. This gained him one of Nick's rare, wolfish grins.

"Then we can try to meet up with Coach and Ro."

"Got tha', Nick, let's go!" Ellis stood and helped the conman up, getting a less-grudging thanks than usual.

Rochelle stifled a groan as her knees tainted again. She had twisted it badly when escaping the Witches, yet she didn't want to hold them back. Coach noticed her pained expression and frowned.

"Ro, are you okay?" the older man enquired. He stopped, eyes searching her face for any more signs that she was in pain.

"No, I'm- I'm fine, really," she answered unconvincingly. Coach raised an eyebrow.

"Cause you don't look it," he confirmed as she winced again. "Let me see."

Rochelle reluctantly sat on a nearby bench and pointed out her knee, which Coach examined and prodded and poked like a professional.

In the midst of her frequent flinches and hissed of pain, Rochelle imagined Nick saying, "Let Doctor Nick fix you up." This made her get more worried for his and Ellis' safety.

Nick seemed to move a bit better after applying bandages to set his ribs. But he seemed more intent on healing Ellis.

"C'mon, kid, lemme heal you," he snapped as Ellis declined again. The hick edged away from the scowling conman, who advanced holding a med pack. It might as well have been a pipe bomb.

"Jeez, don't be so defiant," he sighed. "I'm trying to help, but if you don't want it-" He starting coughing with no warning, but when Ellis moved to help he was warded back by an outflung hand.

"No," Nick said between coughs, "I don't need help."

"Nick, at leas' take some of my water-" Ellis started.

"Only if you let me heal you," the conman countered. Ellis frowned.

"Fine," the Savannahite replied after some hesitation. Nick healed him, more roughly than he usually would, but gladly accepted the water to stop himself from coughing.

"Thanks, kiddo," he said, offering a half-smile. He cleared his throat. Nick suddenly jumped up and snatched Ellis' cap, running off with it. It took Ellis a moment to realise what the conman had done.

"Hey! Y'all give tha' back!" the kid cried, racing after the laughing conman.

"You'll have to earn it," Nick sang, an amused smile playing on his lips, holding the cap behind his back.

"Um ... how about ... uh ..." Ellis was blank of what to do. Nick stepped next to him.

"Close your eyes," he said softly. The smile was gone, replaced by a neutral expression. Ellis obliged.

He felt something cool touch his neck.

"Alright, open them," Nick murmured. Ellis opened his eyes and yelped at sight of the disembodied Common Infected limb prodding his neck.

"Nick!" he cried with mock annoyance at the conman roaring with laughter. The conman sank down against the wall, and the Savannahite sat next to him. He felt the familiar weight of the cap on his head and gave a lopsided grin at Nick, who returned it likewise.


End file.
